


Turned Our Breath Into Clouds

by ChibiRHM



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Huddling For Warmth, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 12:43:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1899471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiRHM/pseuds/ChibiRHM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Nights when the heat had gone out</i>
  <br/>
  <i>We danced together alone</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Cold turned our breath into clouds</i>
  <br/>
  <i>We never said what we were dreaming of</i>
  <br/>
  <i>But you turned me into somebody loved</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turned Our Breath Into Clouds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oflights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oflights/gifts).



> One day Allie IMed me and went, "so I've decided that I want huddling for warmth fic and you're the best one to write it" and I went "no I'm not" and then yes, I was.
> 
> This is Allie's super early birthday present. Happy birthday, Allie! You're a good egg.
> 
> (Beta'd by the lovely and splendorous i_claudia, lyrics by The Weepies.)

Hotel rooms in New York City are hard to come by. Sid never knew how hard, exactly, because rooms had always been pre-booked for him. But when the heater breaks on the seventh floor of their booked-up hotel, Jen can’t find them anywhere else to go. _NYC is impossible around the holidays, sorry!!!!_ Her team-wide text reads. _Room service has offered extra blankets, take advantage of them. Stay warm!!!!_

Sid only calls for one extra blanket - he’s Canadian, after all - and changes into the sweats he’d packed for after practice. He’s just about to shut off the TV and try to get some sleep when his doorknob jiggles.

His first, absurd thought is that it’s robbers, but robbers wouldn’t have a keycard, and whoever’s on the other side of the door certainly does. Sid’s just bracing himself for whatever intruder it is, sizing up the lamp on the bedside table next to him and trying to decide if it’s sturdy enough to defend himself when the door opens to reveal Geno, also in his workout sweats and looking distinctly grumpy.

“What -” Sid starts, because he and Geno had agreed, he thought, not to spend the night in each other’s rooms during road trips. Sure, it was kind of hot to sneak around, but it wasn’t really the smartest of ideas.

“Cold,” Geno grouses, shutting the door behind him and coming over to the side of the bed he normally sleeps on. “Move over.” Sid does, automatically, carving out the space Geno normally occupies, and watches Geno exhale in relief and dive under the covers.

“Baby,” Sid says, poking Geno’s side. “You’d be fine in your own hotel room.”

“But I have you for heater,” Geno says, and then smiles slyly, tongue poking out the side of his mouth. “Why, you kick me out?”

“Maybe,” Sid says, just to be stubborn, even as Geno’s pulling him into a warm cocoon of down and body heat. “I could.”

“You not,” Geno says, confident, one huge hand rubbing up and down Sid’s arm quickly as if to warm it. “Hi.”

Sid can feel himself smiling and leaning into Geno’s touch even though he knows he shouldn’t give in, but he just wants to so badly, wants it to be like any night at home when they’re curled together in bed. “Hi,” he says.

“I miss you,” Geno says, his hand still rubbing Sid’s arm, but slower now, more soothing than bracing.

“We just had dinner together,” Sid says, though that’s not strictly true. They’d gone out with the team for dinner, Geno electing to go along with Sid and everyone else instead of splitting off on his own. It wasn’t the romantic date night of either of their dreams - couldn’t be when Duper, Flower, and Tanger were comparing their grossest baby stories to see whose was the worst - but when no one was looking Geno had snuck his hand under the table and held Sid’s, smiling at him warmly in the dim restaurant light, and in that moment everything had felt right. 

Everything feels right now, too, Sid’s legs tangled with Geno’s as they watch each other sleepily. Sid’s ears are maybe a little cold from being exposed to the air outside the blanket nest, but other than that, there’s nothing he wants to change. But want and should are two different things, so Sid puts on his sternest face before telling Geno, “really, G, go back to your room.”

“Okay, okay,” Geno sighs, giving in far easier than Sid anticipated. “I go, but kiss first.”

“Just one,” Sid says, and Geno nods, so Sid leans forward and brushes his lips against Geno’s chapped ones. But as soon as he does, he knows it’s a trap. Immediately Geno’s hands fly up to frame his face and hold him still, biting at and sucking on Sid’s lower lip until Sid opens his mouth on a gasp, and then he’s kissing Sid fiercely, pressing him down into the mattress and staking his claim.

“We said one,” Sid pants, and Geno pulls back with a grin.

“I lie.”

“That’s cheating,” Sid grumbles. Geno frowns a little at Sid’s tone, pulling away, and Sid has to yank him down by the front of his sweatshirt. “That doesn’t mean I _mind_ ,” he says. Geno beaming at him is the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes and leans up to kiss Geno again, like they never stopped.

Geno’s mouth is so warm against Sid’s, Geno’s everything is warm. Sid lets his fingers inch under Geno’s hoodie and untuck his shirt so he can shove his fingers against the heat coming off Geno’s skin. The touch makes Geno suck in a breath and pull back from kissing Sid with a rueful smile.

“Cold fingers,” he says, pushing a curl off Sid’s forehead. “All of Sid very cold. I have to warm up.”

“I’m not cold,” Sid says, because he’s not, not pressed against Geno’s bulk that always radiates heat like a furnace.

Geno hums and lifts Sid’s hand, thumb rubbing across Sid’s palm as he presses a kiss to each fingertip. “Cold,” he says. “I have to warm Sid here,” he presses a last kiss to Sid’s palm and picks up his other hand, “and here.” Sid can’t help but sigh a little, and Geno smiles against Sid’s hand, tucking it back under the covers and brushing his hot mouth along the shell of Sid’s ear. “Cold here too,” he says.

“Geno,” Sid sighs, his arms coming to wrap around Geno’s neck as Geno’s lips wander aimlessly across Sid’s face.

“Shh, warming you up,” Geno shushes, slipping his fingers under Sid’s sweatshirt. They are, against all odds, only cool to the touch, just enough to make Sid shiver. But Geno isn’t content to just let his fingers brush teasingly along Sid’s back and sides, they keep drifting lower and lower, pushing Sid’s sweatpants down until they’re down around his thighs.

“Hm,” Geno chuckles, his fingers moving over the bulge in Sid’s underwear, “Sid not cold here.”

“Hah hah,” Sid says breathlessly, trying and failing to keep his hips still as Geno works him through his boxers to full hardness. It doesn’t take much - just watching Geno flushed and biting his lip as he concentrates is enough to get Sid more than a little worked up, and his huge, calloused hands take care of the rest.

He stops rubbing Sid’s dick as soon as Sid starts to settle into a rhythm, as soon as Geno’s hand stroking him through his boxers is just starting to feel really, really good, and Sid moans a little at the loss. But before Sid can whine too much about Geno taking his hand away, Geno throws a long leg over Sid’s hips and settles his weight there, pressing teasing kisses up Sid’s neck.

Sid lets out a long, throaty “oh,” and throws his head back onto the pillow with a thunk when Geno grinds down against him, just the right amount of pressure. Geno’s scent is almost overpowering in the cocoon of blankets and he’s so heavy and warm, perfect for thrusting against. Geno murmurs something nonsensical - or perhaps Russian, Sid can never tell the difference - and presses a kiss under Sid’s jaw at his pulse point.

“And Sid try to kick me out of bed,” he chuckles, grinding in a slow, torturous circular motion that leaves Sid gasping.

“Dumb,” Sid pants. “I wasn’t - fuck, _Geno_...”

“Shhh,” Geno says. “Keep down, Kuni next door.”

Sid wants to reply that that’s why he tried to discourage hotel room trysts in the first place, but it seems a little beside the point, now, so instead he buries his face in the crook of Geno’s neck to muffle the helpless little noises that are coming out of his mouth. He wants to kiss Geno, because kissing Geno is so _good_ , but if he does it’ll be over too quickly. Instead he focuses on the almost graceful, easy roll of Geno’s hips against his, like Sid’s one of the girls Geno used to pick up in clubs when he was a rookie and dance sloppily with.

But Geno doesn’t pick up girls any more, and Sid bets no girl ever got Geno like this - blanketing them and pressing kisses where their shoulder joins their neck, one hand steadying on the small of their back. _Sid_ hardly gets Geno like this. Geno’s usually more restless, more playful, more competitive. Tonight Geno seems to just want Sid close for the sake of being close, his breathing harsh but even in Sid’s ear.

“You good?” Geno asks in an undertone, his nose brushing Sid’s ear when he turns to murmur in it.

“Yeah,” Sid sighs happily. He’s close , so close, his fingers clenched tightly in Geno’s sweatshirt, floating on that almost painfully pleasurable edge of almost too much and not even close to enough.

“Kiss,” Geno says quietly, and Sid doesn’t register what he’s talking about until Geno’s lips meet his in a long, toe-curling kiss that has Sid arching upwards with the desperate need to get closer, to crawl inside Geno’s warmth and never come out. His hips give one final stutter as Geno nips his bottom lip and then he’s coming, warmth pooling in his boxers.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters when he pulls away, panting. “You ruined my boxers.”

“Take off,” Geno mutters, helping Sid tug them down and kick them off. He pulls his sweatpants up with no underwear, which feels a little strange on his sensitive cock, but not bad-strange. He’ll just have to remember to put on a clean pair of underwear in the morning. It’s good he always packs extra.

“You happy you not kick me out of bed now,” Geno says smugly, and Sid laughs as he pulls him down for a kiss, pushing Geno over onto his back.

“You win,” Sid says. “Now shut up, I’m gonna get you off.” He licks his palm and gets to work, hand in Geno’s boxers and jacking his dick at the slow, torturous pace Geno likes. Geno makes a gratifying strangled noise and his hands fly to Sid’s ass, clenching and unclenching as he pushes into Sid’s fist. It’s so predictably Geno Sid almost laughs.

“You love my ass,” he says, and Geno smiles a little and gives it a little smack, hard enough to sting a little but not hard enough to make too much noise.

“Good ass,” he says. “Good - unh - good hands. Good - good Sid. So good.”

“Be quiet, remember?” Sid says, and Geno somehow manages to stay looking turned on while rolling his eyes, which Sid thinks is impressive, all things considered.

But Geno can’t be quiet. Increasingly louder moans and groans escape his mouth, which make Sid’s breath catch, but aren’t good for Geno’s presence going undetected. There’s only one way to shut Geno up that Sid knows, and that is to kiss him. And so kiss him Sid does. Long, drugging kisses that grow increasingly sloppy the closer Geno gets. Finally, they’re not so much kissing as Geno is harshly breathing into Sid’s mouth, his moans of “Sid, _Sid_ ,” becoming clearer. Sid speeds up his hand, adding a little twist at the end. Geno comes with a heartfelt and satisfied-sounding sigh. He lays still, breathing heavily, and then opens his eyes and smiles at Sid in a way that makes Sid’s heart speed up traitorously.

“Now my boxers ruined,” Geno grumps, entirely without heat. He shucks them off and throws them on the floor next to Sid’s, where Sid knows they’ll wind up forgotten.

“I’ll wash them with mine when we get home,” Sid promises while Geno pulls his own sweatpants back up, and Geno grins.

“Take good care of me,” he says, and lifts an arm up for Sid to duck under and curl up close.

“Someone has to,” Sid says around a yawn.

“I - “ Geno starts, then stops with a sigh, the kind he makes when he’s frustrated with English. Sid looks up at Geno, ready to help him say whatever he wants to say, but one look at Geno’s face makes him stop short. For a split second, Sid is sure Geno’s going to say he loves him. He’s watching Sid, eyes heavy with affection, a small, content smile on his face, and Sid’s heart starts to beat double time, out of fear or anticipation, he doesn’t know. Sid knows he loves Geno - he’s always loved Geno in one way or another - but saying it aloud is scary and new, something he hasn’t done since he was 17 with a high school girlfriend and certain he knew what love was. If this is love, it’s a hundred times better and worse and altogether completely different than what he felt back then. It’s not fireworks and grand declarations, it’s a precious, delicate happiness that they’ve made and that Sid wants to feel over and over and over again. 

Geno huffs out a small laugh and presses a kiss to Sid’s forehead, breaking his train of thought. “You think so much, I almost hear you,” he teases. 

“I’m thinking about how hard you’re going to get chirped for spending the night in my room,” Sid says, an easy deflection.

“I sneak out early,” Geno says, even though Sid knows full well he’ll do no such thing. Most likely he’ll smack Sid’s alarm off and sleep in while Sid quietly gets up next to him, and then Geno will come down to breakfast a half hour late with his hair sticking up and bleary eyes. No one will be any the wiser that he slept in Sid’s bed and not his own. He’ll probably start sneaking into Sid’s room more often, emboldened by his own success, and Sid can’t find it in himself to try and stop Geno. He doubts he could even if he wanted to, and he’s not sure he wants to in the first place. Instead, he leans up and presses a small, chaste kiss to Geno’s lips before ducking back under Geno’s arm, settling down for sleep.

“Night, Geno,” he says.

“Night,” Geno says. Sid thinks he hears Geno murmur something in Russian - definitely Russian, not nonsense, this time - but before he can ask what it means, he’s drifting off to sleep, finally, blissfully warm through and through.


End file.
